Beer and Bread

In a certain kingdom, in a certain state, there once lived a rich peasant. He had plenty of money and grain, and he lent money to the poor farmers of his village at high interest. If he gave them corn, they had to return it in full in the summer, and for every three pecks they borrowed, they also had to work two days on his fields.

One day, a church festival was approaching, and the peasants began brewing beer for the feast. But in that same village lived a peasant so poor that no one was poorer. On the evening before the festival, he sat in his little hut with his wife, thinking: "What shall I do? All the good folk are making merry, but we don't have a crust of bread in the house. I could go to the rich man and ask for a loan, but he wouldn't trust me. What shall I do? I am so woebegone!" He thought and thought, then got up from the bench, stood before the icon, and sighed heavily. "Lord," he said, "forgive my sins, for I cannot even buy oil to fill the lamp before Your icon for Your feast."

After a while, an old man came into the hut.

"Hail, master," he said.

"Hail, old man! Can you stay the night here?"

"If you'll have me, I will. But, friend, I have not a crust of bread in the house, and I can't feed you."

"Never mind, master. I have three crusts of bread and some meat. Just give me a ladle of water. I'll take a bite of bread and a sip of water, and we'll be satisfied."

The old man sat down on the bench and spoke: "Why are you so sad, master? What has made you melancholy?"

"Old man," the peasant answered, "why shouldn't I be heavy? It's God's gift. We were so looking forward to the feast. All the good folk are merry and rejoicing, but we have nothing. Everything around me and within is empty."

"Well, be of good cheer," said the old man. "Go to the rich peasant and ask whatever you need as a loan."

"No, I can't go. He won't give it."

"Go," the old man insisted. "Fear nothing. Ask him for three pecks of malt, and we will brew beer together."

"But it's so late. How can we brew beer now? The feast is tomorrow."

"Do as I say. Go to the rich peasant and ask for the three pecks of malt. He will give them to you at once. And tomorrow you shall have beer so good that you'll find none better in the whole village."

What could the poor man do? He got up, took his sack under his arm, and went to the rich peasant. He entered the rich man's house, bowed low, begged him by name and patronymic, and asked for a loan of three pecks of malt, as he wanted to brew beer for the festival.

"Why didn't you think of it sooner?" the rich man replied. "How can you do it now, on the eve of the festival?"

"Never mind, friend," the poor man said. "If you'll be so kind, my wife and I will still brew something together and celebrate the festival."

The rich man gave him three pecks of malt and poured them into his sack. The poor man lifted the sack onto his shoulders and went home, recounting how things had gone.

"Now, master," his old guest said, "you shall have a feast. Is there a well at your door?"

"There is," said the peasant.

"Well, we will go to your well and brew the beer. Bring your sack and follow me."

So they went out to the courtyard and up to the well.

"Pour it all in there," the old man said.

"Why should we hurl all this good stuff into the well?" the master replied. "There are only three pecks, and it will all be wasted for nothing."

"It is the best thing you can do."

"We shall do no good—we'll only spoil the water."

"Listen to me and do as I say. There is nothing to fear."

So what could he do? He had to pour all the malt into the well.

"Now," the old man said, "formerly there was water in the well, but tomorrow it will be beer. Now, master, let us go into the house and lie down to sleep. The morning is wiser than the evening, and tomorrow you will have such good beer that one glass will make you drunk."

So they waited until morning. When dinner-time came, the old man said: "Well, master, get as many tubs as you can, set them around the well, fill them all with beer, and then call everyone in to drink. You shall have a truly merry feast."

So the peasant went and called all his neighbors, asking for tubs.

"What do you want all these tubs and pails for?" they asked.

"Oh, I need them at once, for I don't have enough vessels to hold my beer."

The neighbors whispered: "What on earth does he mean? Has the good fellow gone mad? There's not a crust of bread in his house, and he's chattering about beer."

Nevertheless, he managed to gather twenty pails and tubs, set them all around the well, and began to haul up the beer. And the beer was so fine—finer than anyone could think, imagine, or tell. He filled all the tubs to the brim, and the well was as full as ever. Then he began to cry aloud and call guests to his door.

"Come to me, good Christians, and drink strong beer! Such beer as you have never seen in your life!"

The people looked around. "What is he up to? Surely you take water from a well, and he calls it beer? Anyway, let's go and see, whatever trickery it may be." So they all rushed to the tubs and began to ladle it out and look at it. Evidently, after all, it had to be beer. And they said: "Such beer we have never drunk before!" His courtyard was full of village folk. The master was not slow to ladle out beer from the well for himself, and he treated all his guests royally.

When the rich peasant heard about it, he came to the poor man's courtyard, tasted the beer, and began to ask: "Please tell me how you managed to make such magnificent beer?"

"Oh, there was no cleverness about it," the poor man answered. "It is the simplest thing in the world. When I took your three pecks, I simply went and threw them into the well. Formerly it was water, and in a single night it all became beer."

"Well," thought the rich man, "I will go home and do the same."

So he went home and ordered all his servants to take all the best malt out of his granaries and throw it into the well. And his laborers threw ten sacks of malt into the well.

"Now," said the rich man, rubbing his hands, "I shall have finer beer than the poor man."

So, the next time he went out to his courtyard and up to the well, he sampled it and looked. It was water before, and it was still water—only rather dirtier. "I don't understand; I put too little malt in it. I'll add some more," he thought, and ordered his workmen to put five more sacks into the well. They were all thrown in, but it was all no good; he had simply wasted all his malt.

And when the feast had passed, the water in the poor peasant's well was as pure as ever, just as if nothing had happened.

Once again the old man came to the poor peasant and said: "Listen, master, have you sown your corn this year?"

"No, grandfather, I have not sown a single grain."

"Well, now go to the rich man and ask him for three pecks of every kind of corn. We will eat with you in the fields, and then we will sow the corn."

"How shall we sow it now?" the poor man answered. "It is the middle of winter, and the frost is cracking."

"Never mind about that. Go and do as I say. I brewed you beer, and I will sow you corn."

So the poor man went once more to the rich peasant and asked him for a loan of three pecks of every kind of corn. When he came back, he told his aged guest: "Here it all is, grandfather."

So they went out to the fields, scattered the seeds according to their nature on the peasant's lots—and behold! They threw all the grains on the white snow, every single grain.

The old man said to the peasant: "Go home and wait until the summer; you will have bread enough."

So the poor man went to his hut and became the laughing-stock of the village for sowing his corn in winter. "Look at him! What a fool he is! He forgot when to sow; he didn't think of sowing in autumn." He paid no mind but waited for spring. The warm days came, the snow melted, and the grain sprouts appeared.

"Come now," the poor man said, "I will go and see what my stretch of land looks like." So he went to his field and saw such splendid blades of corn that any soul might rejoice. And on all the acres of others, it was not half as fine. "Glory be to God!" the peasant cried. "I am now looking up!"

Soon the time of harvest came, and all good folk began to gather their corn. The old man also went and busied himself, calling his wife to help him. He could not get through alone, but had to summon all the laborers for the harvesting and give half of his corn away. And all the peasants were astonished at the poor man, for he had not sown his land but had scattered the seeds in winter, and his corn had been splendid. The poor peasant had put his affairs straight and managed to live without any trouble; whatever he required for his household, he went to town, sold quarters and quarters of corn, bought what he needed, and repaid the rich peasant his debt in full.

Then the rich peasant began to think: "Heigh-ho! I shall also begin sowing in winter; perhaps I shall have corn as fine." So he waited until the very day on which the poor peasant had sown his corn the previous year, took from his bins quarters of different sorts of corn, went out into the fields, and scattered it all on the snow. He covered the fields entirely; but a storm arose at night, and mighty winds blew, and wafted all the corn from his land away onto the other fields.

Then came a fine spring, and the rich man went to his fields and saw them bare—his own land naked and waste. There was not a single blade that appeared, while on all the other strips where there had been no ploughing and no sowing, you never saw such a fine green crop! Then the rich man began to think: "Lord, I have spent much on corn, and it has all been in vain. And my debtors have neither ploughed nor sown, and their corn grows of itself. Needs must I be a great sinner!"